CHESTNUT HILL, Mass. 
First there were the Reagan Democrats. Then came the soccer moms. This
is the year of the independent, undecided voter.

In theory, democracy should
be better off with more independent voters. After all, independents, distrustful
of ideology and partisan wrangling, listen to the candidates, measure
against what they want and choose, if they choose at all, the one whose
views sound most credible. In exercising their freedom of choice, unaffiliated
voters apply to politics the same kind of consumer sovereignty that guarantees
an efficient economy. Yet if the election this year proves anything, it
is that appeals to nonpartisans result in boring elections, enhanced cynicism
and a surfeit of bad faith.

Al Gore and George Bush
have the same challenge: to appeal to a base by presenting sharply contrasting
visions of the role of government, while also appealing to independent
voters by playing down these differences. In reality, Mr. Bush is a conservative
who would cut taxes and limit government and Mr. Gore offers popular entitlements,
like prescription drug coverage and tuition tax breaks, in line with his
party's traditional liberalism.

Yet many of the independent,
undecided voters interviewed after the debates saw little difference between
them. Those who did seemed confused, like the woman who favored gun control
and abortion, yet still preferred Mr. Bush. Still others talked of how
unhappy they were with both men, when what they really seemed to be saying
was that they were prepared to hold out, hoping the candidates would tailor
positions just for them. The phenomenon of myopic self-interest was captured
in the third debate by a woman who asked not about the candidate's foreign
policy, Supreme Court justices or the role of government, but about how
the candidate's tax plans would help her as a single person with no dependents.

There is something wrong
with a system that listens the most to those who care about the nation
the least. Better those who identify proudly as Democrats or Republicans,
even if their loyalty is a byproduct of place or position, than those
whose reluctance to announce where they stand is more narcissistic than
noble.

Without partisan identification,
politics becomes divorced from history. One would never know from the
current campaign that Abe Lincoln was a Republican or that Franklin Roosevelt
was a Democrat. Without an anchor in a political tradition, voters are
unable to recognize that their views on education might be related to
their views on Social Security and that both reflect a distinctive philosophical
understanding of human purpose.

Voters with no ideology
are not self-reliant, but weightless. Shifting from one candidate to another
based on gestures and impressions, they crave leadership but will punish
any politician who, in offering it, offends their vanity. It is difficult
to recall an election with less eloquence about our nation's calling than
this one.

Indeed, both candidates
seem to assume that viewers sit in front of their TV screens with "The
Almanac of American Politics" on their laps. Mr. Gore demonstrated his
command of the Dingell-Norwood bill (in the third debate), while Mr. Bush
spoke about how much he spent in Texas on the CHIPs program (in the second).
No viewers, no matter how good their math or how keen their interest,
could follow each man's defense of his tax program. Partisanship distills
information. Independence disperses it.

Overly ideological politics,
by fanning the enthusiasm of zealots, can be dangerous. But politics without
ideology encourages myopia. James Madison, in Federalist Paper No. 10,
wrote of fearing the influence of faction on the nation's politics. Were
he alive today, he might well choose partisanship over pathos.

Alan
Wolfe is director of the Center for Religion and American Public Life
at Boston College and author of "One Nation, After All."